


November Rain

by MXXNTAEIL



Series: A Lethal Combination [1]
Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blossoming Friendship, Bullying, Hwanwoong is a "popular kid", Hwanwoong likes fire, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Keonhee is unnecessarily quiet, Keonhee likes the water, M/M, Mentioned Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Rain, Thunder and Lightning, hehe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 13:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MXXNTAEIL/pseuds/MXXNTAEIL
Summary: Keonhee is drowning in his own little world, and Hwanwoong happens to stumble upon it.(Title: November Rain - Kris Wu)





	November Rain

**Author's Note:**

> yeah okay so i lied, i wrote this in a handful of hours and i can't get enough of oneus, so i just wanted to share this. i was supposed to be working on moonlight mary-fever (a meanie fic for the 'without water in blood' series) but look who got super distracted. and you might see that i still don't know how to write endings - but that's beside the point. please enjoy and kindly disregard any mistakes, i haven't gotten around to editing and probably never will, haha.

Keonhee found a second home on the beach really close to the ocean, by the riverbank where the water sloshed against the wet soil, against the railing where the rain trickled down and created a pitter patter on the wooden porch. The loud splashing or crashing of waves overshadowed the sound of his voice where he murmured into the sky. He could say anything, the water would cover him, and it became an outlet to let the water hear him.

He didn’t have many friends, and even then the two who stuck with him were slowly distancing themselves away. It got lonely quickly because even his parents found it hard to talk to and understand him, along with his sister who busied herself with her own things. 

But he found a sanctuary in the quietness and frequented at the riverbank or the seashore or the porch when he could. Mostly because he could whisper to the water, to the fish, to the insects, to the shells, to the nature around him, and to the sky where he hoped someone could hear him.

The need to find comfort in the sometimes loud waters stemmed from being a pushover to letting others interrupt him, and his habit of being so quiet everyone kind of forgets about him. Every time he tries to speak up he gets ignored and his sentence fizzles out, lapsing them all into silence before the group picks up their conversation again, leaving Keonhee out. 

But the water doesn’t do that. It listens to him. It lets him be angry and have an opinion and ramble. The water takes in his words and doesn’t interrupt him or look at him with distaste or disgust or confusion. 

At school, he doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t stand up for himself. He’s talked down to constantly and has everything he even dares to say questioned. Keonhee was a laughing stock for half of high school until the one popular kid, Hwanwoong, was outed for being gay. The attention was switched off of him and everyone quickly flocked to crow at Hwanwoong. To laugh at him because he likes boys.

Keonhee tells the ocean the stories he’s overheard when people forgot he was there about Hwanwoong. About how the three tough kids living in the broken down neighborhood beat him up after school by the brick wall facing the woods. The rumors about the blood still staining the wall and the burned black bricks were the most popular right now, and it became a challenge to go past the gates to see them. 

He tells the ocean about how Hwanwoong fell from fame and how the basketball player is mocked in the locker room.  The river has heard about the burn marks the basketball team captain had supposedly seen.  The porch heard about the Zippo lighter and Hwanwoong’s theorized newfound obsession with fire.

And Keonhee shudders, not by the chilly ocean breeze of November, but because of Hwanwoong. Keonhee prefers the water and the comfort it brings, and the fire is just pure destruction and rage.

It’s unsettling. 

Keonhee tells the water how the boy was blamed for everything because of his sexuality, of how everyone had thought “he deserved it.” He felt bad for Hwanwoong because he didn’t deserve to be treated how he was. A few people arrive at the beach and stare out the corners of their eyes at him with his face buried between his knees, hands carving into the wet sand, water lapping at his feet. So he leaves, and he notices the gray clouds huddling in a little pack to travel across the sky.

He hears the thunder before seeing the lightning, hears the rain hitting the window before he looks up to see it on the bus ride home. 

Keonhee stops at a convenience store just as the rain starts falling faster, running into the store with a hand digging into his wallet for money. He hears the flicker before he sees the flame and the face staring directly into it unmoving.  He stops, and it feels like cold water consumes him as his hands shake and a shiver runs down his spine. Maybe it was just a side effect of the rain pelting him as he ran from the bus stop to the door making him so chilly. The air conditioning inside wasn’t helping either.

Hwanwoong looked at him from behind the little flame of the Zippo lighter, it was a white one too, with drawn on designs. Keonhee willed himself to find his way around the aisles and try not to overthink this. 

“Hey, kid.”

Keonhee’s hand grasped the navy blue umbrella, the folding price tag corner digging into his palm. He turned around and Hwanwoong was shoving the lighter into his jean jacket pocket.  His throat went dry, but it wasn’t like he was going to talk anyway. So he waved instead, albeit shyly paired with a tight-lipped smile that was supposed to be friendly.

“Rumors true? You don’t speak?”

Keonhee didn’t know what to do, the ocean wasn’t there to console him or make him feel comfortable enough to try speaking. Although the heavy rain hitting the store’s windows made him feel grounded.

He nodded and Hwanwoong’s eyebrows creased, “Cool, cool. Are you mute?”

Keonhee shook his head and held the umbrella close to his chest, and Hwanwoong seemed to lag on the answer. A quiet ‘oh!’ left his mouth before he backed up and gestured for Keonhee to move to the register. 

It was weird. The whole thing was weird. Keonhee thought Hwanwoong would be rude because he used to be popular, and all the popular kids were rude and uncaring. But they were also all desperate, although Hwanwoong didn’t seem desperate.

He heard the flicker of the Zippo lighter, “What grade are you in?” Hwanwoon kept flicking the lighter and waited patiently while Keonhee paid for his umbrella, before realizing something. “Sorry, are you in twelfth grade?” 

Keonhee shook his head and mouthed a thank you to the cashier since he wasn’t comfortable saying it with Hwanwoong there. 

“Eleventh?” He nodded. Hwanwoong flicked the Zippo lighter one last time before stuffing it in his pocket. He turned to the quiet boy and asked, “Mind if we share an umbrella?” 

Keonhee hesitated, but Hwanwoong’s withering smile made him shake his head and open the door. He opened the umbrella and let Hwanwoong under it first since he was far tinier.

They could only take a few steps before a crack of thunder and a stutter in the rainfall made them realize the umbrella was useless. The rain was falling slanted, and the would get some part of their bodies wet no matter what angle they pointed the umbrella at. “Wanna run?” Hwanwoong said, gesturing to the sheltered bus stop at the edge of the street. Keonhee didn’t hesitate this time and nodded enthusiastically, almost letting an exhausting word slip through. 

Hwanwoong unexpectedly grabbed his wrist and set off in a sprint, nearly dragging Keonhee into the ground. They laughed together when their backs slammed against the glass walls, falling onto the gray bench, chests rising and falling. Keonhee covered his smile with a sleeved hand and his shoulders shook in a quiet laugh.

“Can I check the bus schedule on your phone?” Hwanwoong said, wiping his face with his shirt. Keonhee only caught the slightest glimpse of a white scar before the black cloth covered it up again. “Mine’s dead, it’s why I was stuck lingering at the,” he sniffled, “the store.”

Keonhee reaches into his wallet and slipped out his phone, leaning over Hwanwoong’s shoulder slightly after he handed it over. He pointed at certain things on the screen when Hwanwoong couldn’t navigate the website. 

“The next bus is at... six? What time is it now?” Keonhee reached over and swiped down on the screen to show the time. “Are you kidding—thirty minutes?” 

Hwanwoong handed over the other’s phone and slumped against the wall. Keonhee had just put his wallet back into his pocket when he heard the flick of the lighter. 

It was as if he reflexively shivered, all the cold finally registering in his mind and biting his bones. “Here, bring me your hands.” Keonhee hesitated and Hwanwoong’s smile withered, “I’m not gonna...” He said as a start but trailed off, looking somewhere out in the rain before rolling his shoulders back and re-flicking the lighter. “I’m not going to burn you. Just going to get us a bit warm.”

He paused,  _ he’s not going to burn me. _ It struck his heart with a stake, and he brought his hands, albeit shakily, to Hwanwoong’s flame. 

It was quiet for a few moments when a flash of lightning caused Hwanwoong to jump, and the hum of a thundering apology from the sky afterward made him sigh. “Are you cold?” He said, Keonhee nodded, and then, “Are you curious about the scars?” 

The dark haired boy hesitated, again, and he debated with himself. Hwanwoong was too busy steadying his arms as he repositioned his body, trying not to burn Keonhee. “I,” he said with a dry throat, and the other’s head shot up. “I wanted to know if.. if the scar rumors were true.”

“Yeah,” Hwanwoong said, “they are.” His voice flatlined and the rain made up for the silence, and he spoke again after watching the raindrops. “Burned, beaten, crazy. Bruise right here, too, hasn’t healed fully,” he rolled up his sleeve a little, big light colored yellow spots disappeared into the denim. 

“Does it still hurt?” 

“Most of them don’t, they’ve gone light and yellow and lost their pain.” Hwanwoong brought both hands around the Zippo lighter again. “Some of them are still blue and green and yellow, and they hurt pretty bad.”  Keonhee’s hands were warm, but his body was chilled still. He looked at the other’s dusty blonde hair drenched dark with rain, but lightened in a few drying spots, and he sniffled. 

“Do you,” he starts, unsure as he always is, but the water falling around him drown out the sounds of his mind telling him to stop, “do you know what they say? About you?” His voice is probably crystalline, as he’s used to talking for hours on end, and he sings to the water, so his voice is treated well. 

“Some things I do know, like about the challenge to get past the gates. It’s a lie,” Hwanwoong says, staring into the little fire with an untampered devotion and unmoving gaze, “the cleaners got to it.

And I know about the locker room scandals how I’m supposedly peeking at the other guys or the student council stuff about me trying to seduce the president. Both of those aren’t true, by the way,” his laughter comes easily, and Keonhee sees why he had so many friends. 

So easy-going. A comforting presence. 

Keonhee smiles along, not having enough energy to even give a huff of laughter. Hwanwoong looks up at him with his sharp eyes, eyebrows raised in amusement before his expression became sour. The quiet boy assumes his face might’ve given away there are more stories spread.  “Oh no, there’s more?” Keonhee nods. 

“It’s not much,” Keonhee says in a small voice, Hwanwoong looks at him so earnestly and ready to listen it makes him shudder. “Your scars, your...” He falters, mind teetering on the edge and lips forming the syllables, and he hears himself say it before it registers fully, “obsession with fire.” 

Lightning flashed and thunder apologized to Hwanwoong as he was shaken out of his stupor. “Oh, what about my, uh, scars?”

“The basketball captain.”

“Seungcheol,” Hwanwoong said, his voice withered away, “saw... them.” He abruptly shut the lighter and re-flicked it a couple times, Keonhee assumed out of habit and need. The shutting of the lid ringing in the dark haired boy’s ears.

Right now, even water couldn’t ground Keonhee and he felt like he was drowning. He felt suffocated, his vicinity with Hwanwoong was starting to grow uncomfortable.  But before he could open his mouth to ask another question plaguing his mind, the bus rolled to a heavy stop. Hwanwoong shut the Zippo and stuffed it in his pocket, getting up with a soft sigh before turning around and extending his hand to Keonhee.  He took it gratefully after picking up his umbrella. Hwanwoong and Keonhee held hands even after they boarded the bus, and Keonhee felt like he should break the contact but he was too awkward to abruptly take his hand away, and even then Hwanwoong didn’t seem to mind.

Although, he shouldn’t have worried, the blond’s face lit up and he took his hand away and sifted through his jacket pockets, pulling out the lighter and a small keychain with an invisible pen attached to it. “Here, can I have your number? I don’t have any other pens, sorry,” he said, nudging the other boy with the blacklight pen cap.

“Why... an invisible pen?”

“Gag gift package from old friends,” Hwanwoong said, giving a tiny grin, and Keonhee felt something inside of him go sour.  _ Old friends. _ “Speaking of friends, I wanna be yours. So,” he held out the pen, and Keonhee took it, “how about a number?”  Keonhee didn’t know how to decline, not like he wanted to, anyway. If he was being honest, friends with someone like Hwanwoong was appealing, and last month, everyone would've been jealous of him. He was going to be friends with a popular kid - scratch that - he was friends with an unpopular popular kid. He scribbled out his number on the other’s arm with the blacklight shining overhead, and he tried his best to avoid the healing bruises no matter if they would hurt him or not.

“Thanks, kid. I’ll call you, or text, probably, when my phone’s charged.”

“I’m not,” Keonhee said, his dry throat making his sentence fizzle out. “I’m not a kid. We have to be the same age, right?”

“Huh? What year?”

“‘98.”

Hwanwoong’s withering smile formed, “What month?”

“June,” Keonhee said slowly, watching the smile turn into an agape mouth.

“Are you kidding? I was born in August. This isn’t fair.” Hwanwoong hummed, flicking the lighter, before looking up and meeting the judgemental gaze of a scraggly night dweller, dirty and hungover, and he flipped the Zippo lighter shut. He wiped his damp jacket sleeve over the marker doodles on the small object, smudging away the ink.  Keonhee stared off and outside the window where it blurred the outside world, rain pelted the glass and another ripple of thunder sounded. He wants to be home, in dry clothes, sitting on the porch or leaning against the railing, and he really wants to talk. He can’t just start rambling on to Hwanwoong, he needs the sky no matter how clouded, and he needs the rain to drown out his voice. 

He shivered, but he wasn’t cold anymore.

The bus rolled to a stop, jerking forward and resting back, the doors creaking open and the sounds outside leaked into the quiet. “Alright, I have to catch two more buses if the rain doesn’t shake off, or else I’m walking home. You staying here?” Hwanwoong said, standing up and adjusting his clothes. 

Keonhee nodded, and the blond waved goodbye to him, walking down the empty aisle. “Bye…”

“Oh, and I’ll see you Monday. Let’s catch each other outside the school gate, okay?”

_ Monday _ , Keonhee realized it was Saturday. “Yeah…” He trailed off, “see you Monday.” Hwanwoong smiled, edges soft and eyebrows not creased but instead raised high and carefree. He swung around and grabbed the railing leading down the bus stairs, giving the dark haired boy one last wave. 

The bus doors shut and the vehicle waited for the new riders to find their seats. A woman sat in front of Keonhee, closing her purple polka dotted navy blue umbrella, and put her bag in the seat next to her. He could hear the rain saying something, but it was slurred and undecipherable, a flash of lightning blotting out any of its words. Keonhee had spoken to the person he was just rattling on about to the cold ocean waters early in the afternoon, and he wasn’t like how all the stories he’s heard portrayed him as.

They painted him as the villain, the one in the wrong, all because he likes boys. And he doesn’t understand all the gossip, now, it doesn’t make sense. Why put someone down for their preferences?

It’s stupid. The rumors are stupid. 

Hwanwoong was burned and beaten because of nothing.

The only thing left without an explanation is the fire. Why fire? Why did the bullies use fire? Why did Hwanwoong love fire, now? 

Keonhee stopped thinking for a second when the bus jerked forward, he didn’t even realize so much time had passed between the last stop and now. A few passengers walked on and paid, and they shuffled around. “Can I sit here?” A shaking girl said, looking around a lot, and Keonhee followed her frequent glances to one particular guy in the corner.

He nodded, trying not to stare at the man. She shuffled close to him, looking very pointedly at the ground. The bus started moving again, and he fell back into his thoughts with his head against the window, listening to the rain for a few moments before daring to ask, “Do you want to switch seats so he can’t look at your face?” 

Her head shot up, curly light brown hair falling around her face. She nodded slowly as she registered his words.  They switched and relapsed back into stillness. 

Questions stirred his mind into a calm frenzy, words coming together to form repetitive questions just restating one another over and over again. Why fire?  Maybe he should ask Hwanwoong on Monday. He seemed okay with answering his questions, and Keonhee was even surprised he was even allowed to asked them.  The rain pattered against the window, a flash of lightning startled him and made his knee jerk reflexively. Thunder sounded seconds later. He was friends - going to be friends - with an unpopular popular kid. A past popular kid.

_ Cool _ , he thought simply. He stepped off the bus, opening his umbrella. He was going to ask some stuff Hwanwoong on Monday, and maybe they can be real friends. He wanted real friends, and Hwanwoong could be a start.

“Yeah,” he whispered to the sky a little later, walking up the stairs to his porch, his legs drenched in water, thunder crackled above him.

_ Monday. _

  
  
  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840642) by [kingleedo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingleedo/pseuds/kingleedo)




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